Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter [Book 2]: Blood Mists of London

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  “I appreciate that,” I said softly.

  “Since I’ve never had a child, you’re the closest I have,” Jacques said with a broad smile.

  “You’ll be a great father someday, I’m certain. You’re like a second father to me,” I said. “You’ve helped build my knowledge in how to slay vampires and the issues in life that a young man doesn’t understand. Father has never done that.”

  “Most of life’s knowledge is gained only through experience. We tend to remember more from our mistakes than our successes.”

  I nodded. “I have bruises to back up that statement.”

  “I have scars,” he said with a grin. “Both physical and mental. But the truth be known, I’ll take the physical ones over the mental any time.”

  “I agree. I have some of those, too.”

  “No one escapes them, but we will have more than our fair share of them since we hunt and slay vampires. Losses come regardless of how hard we fight to protect those we love.”

  What he said was indeed the truth. I determined that I would continue pursuing the undead. No matter how many of them I slayed or destroyed, I’d never feel vindicated.

  “Seems you’ve rekindled love,” I said.

  Jacques blushed a deep red. A nervous smile parted his beard and he glanced away.

  “Is she the reason why you returned to London?”

  He sighed. “Truthfully, I had never expected to find her.”

  “But you were hopeful?”

  Jacques shrugged. “Deep down, I suppose I was, but I didn’t get my hopes up. I thought she had moved on. Besides the odds of running into her were next to none, considering how heavily populated London is.”

  “Perhaps she found you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Magic.”

  He nodded. “Possibly.”

  “It was obvious she had things pressing upon her mind that she needed to resolve.”

  “We both did,” he said.

  After an hour of walking through the crowding streets we stopped short of the Gypsy community. A hand carved wooden sign displayed the name: Lowbey.

  “What’s wrong?” Jacques asked.

  “I wonder if any underground tunnels run beneath their streets?”

  “Why?”

  “We might have a better chance of discovering what Esmeralda’s hiding if they don’t see us.”

  Jacques shook his head. “I’m certain with their established reputation they will frown upon our snooping instead of us being forthright with them.”

  “She didn’t divulge any further information when we had asked,” I replied.

  “And should they catch us trespassing underneath the streets, what type of punishment do you think she’ll decree? They were ready to cut us to pieces the other night.”

  Father looked worried. “He’s right, son.”

  “Perhaps you should wait here,” I said.

  He frowned, offended. “You keep leaving me behind.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re welcome to come, but you’re on your own should we be discovered.”

  “I’m aware of the risks,” he said evenly.

  I didn’t think he really was, but I wasn’t about to waste time with useless arguing. “You have a weapon?”

  He nodded and smiled. “Always.”

  We eased to the edge of the first building on the street. I peered around the corner. Few people were moving about. The trader tables were vacant.

  “Have they left?” I asked.

  Father, Matilda, and Jacques stepped out onto the street and looked.

  Jacques shrugged. “I think they’re late risers. Their nightly festivities might go late into the morning hours.”

  “Psst!”

  I glanced toward the side of the building. Peering out from the street drain were two sets of reddish eyes. The were-rats? One pushed a metal square door partway up at the building’s edge. Jacques and I hurried to it and slid the door off the opening.

  Matilda walked down the ladder first, followed by my father, and then Jacques and I.

  “Lord Albert sent us to find you,” Clyde said in his small rat-human form. His whiskers twitched. “We’ve looked for you for days and thought you might have left London.”

  I shook my head. “No. We had some setbacks.”

  George held up his lantern, studying my face with eager excited eyes. “As we understand it, you killed Trenton.”

  “He nearly killed me, which is why I’ve not been hunting at night. I’ve been recuperating.”

  Clyde smiled. “Lord Albert’s offer still stands.”

  “What offer?”

  “You becoming one of us.”

  I shook my head. “No thanks.”

  “You’d have healed much quicker,” Clyde said. His beady red eyes beamed. “Less than a day instead of over half a week.”

  “Come on,” George said. He walked back in the direction of Whitechapel.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “To see Lord Albert,” Clyde replied.

  “No,” Jacques replied. “We’re heading under Lowbey.”

  George and Clyde exchanged nervous glances.

  “You don’t want to do that,” George said, shaking his head.

  “Why not?”

  Clyde exhaled a shuddering breath. “Because of the evil that hides there.”

  “What evil?” Matilda asked.

  “We’re not certain,” Clyde replied. “But we have accidentally stumbled upon whatever it is. Lord Albert has forbidden our entering Lowbey.”

  “He hasn’t us,” I replied.

  “I don’t sense anything,” Matilda said, looking at Jacques.

  George handed his lantern to Jacques and turned to walk away. “Enter at your own risks. Should you survive, Lord Albert insists it’s urgent you meet with him.”

  He and Clyde walked into the dark tunnel, their long rat-tails swaying back and forth with each step.

  “What does he want?” I asked.

  Neither boy looked back. “We don’t know. He doesn’t give us information. We’re just his messengers.”

  I glanced toward Jacques. “Should we go with them?”

  He shrugged. “That’d be my preference since I don’t like the idea of sneaking around Gypsy territory, but since we’re already here, we might as well. Perhaps Matilda can sense this source of evil.”

  “I don’t at this moment,” she said. “But we may not be close enough for me to pinpoint it.”

  “To ease all our minds, we’ll do a quick scour of the tunnel, but the building Esmeralda was using is in the center of the community,” I said.

  “That might be too difficult to get to,” Jacques said.

  I nodded. “Since we only have one light, we should stick together.”

  “Should we run into trouble and get divided,” Jacques said, “I will stay with John. Matilda keep close to Forrest since we can see without added light.”

  She nodded.

  I held the lantern in my left hand and walked under Lowbey’s main street. Esmeralda was hiding something. I just didn’t know what it was. We might discover what it was or encounter whatever evil George and Clyde had warned us about. We’d never know unless we searched.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The tunnel we followed wasn’t like those we had explored before. It was dank and reeked of urine and fecal matter, which was a great deterrent to prevent anyone from using the tunnels to gain access to other sections of Lowbey. The center of the tunnel was filled with ankle-deep brown sludgy water, so we walked along the narrow edge to avoid it.

  My father gagged and coughed. “Son, I don’t think we’re going to find anything useful in this tunnel.”

  Tears welled at the edges of my stinging eyes. “I agree that it’s horrible down here. We’ll go just a bit farther.”

  An occasional bat flitted past us. The wet domed walls and ceiling glistened in the lantern’s light. Water dripped like scattered raindrops. Father stagger
ed behind me and leaned against the wall to prevent falling into the water. He took a sharp gasp of air.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  He held a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. “It’s hard to breathe.”

  My throat and lungs burned from breathing in the acrid air, so I understood exactly what he was feeling. I also took into consideration of his feebleness, too. His lack of strength was why I had wished he’d stayed above and waited for us. But I couldn’t continue to make him feel inadequate because doing so would only increase his resentment toward me. Eventually, he’d accept the fact that he couldn’t keep up or his stubbornness would insist that he died trying. Knowing my father, the latter seemed the most likely.

  “He’s not going to make it back to where we started,” Jacques said.

  I nodded ahead of us. “There’s a ladder leading up.”

  Jacques shook his head. “Forrest, we have no idea where that leads. The men regarded us as enemies the other night, and we had walked down the street in plain sight. Imagine how it will look for us to emerge from beneath the village midway down one of their streets. Do you really want to chance their reaction to our unexpected arrival?”

  “Are you indicating that you’ll carry Father back?”

  He shook his head. “Only if it becomes necessary.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” I asked.

  “An alternate route if we happen upon one soon.”

  I shrugged. “I’m good with that. There’s only so much of this stench any of us can tolerate.”

  “Wait,” Matilda said in a near whisper.

  “What?” Jacques said.

  “I feel a faint pulse of magic, but I’m uncertain of its source or whether it’s good or evil.” She placed a cloth over her nose and mouth. “I think it’s farther down the tunnel.”

  “Straight ahead or down that side tunnel?”

  Matilda shrugged. “I can’t be certain until we get closer.”

  If she had detected magic, her sensitivity was far greater than my own. Of course since she was a witch, she was more attuned the mystic realm than I could ever be. But if Matilda was able to locate the magic, then the one responsible for this magic probably already knew Matilda and the rest of us were in the tunnel.

  Since Esmeralda practiced magic, too, I automatically assumed she was behind the source deeper in the tunnel. But my mere speculations about magic were not always accurate.

  “Be wary,” Matilda said softly. “This witch has probably set magical traps.”

  Father gagged until he vomited. He leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. The retching sound grated on my gag reflex, but I kept my resolve not to repeat his performance.

  “Here,” she said, handing him an extra cloth from her pocket. “Put this over your nose and mouth. The herbs will counteract the stench.”

  Father took the cloth and did as she instructed. His breathing stabilized. Jacques gripped Father’s left elbow and walked alongside him.

  I hurried my pace, trying to get closer to the source of magic before we found it necessary to return to the streets above. Being underground had not exactly kept us unnoticed, in spite of my hopes that we could sneak into their village unobserved. Someone was watching us. Anytime I got the feeling of eyes studying me, the impulse had never been wrong.

  After walking two more blocks underneath the village, a prickling sensation crept around my neck, causing the hairs on the nape of my neck to stiffen. A pocket of cold air settled around me, chilling me to the bone. I stopped and looked toward Matilda. “Do you feel that?”

  She nodded. “We’re close. Keep going.”

  I took a deep breath of acrid air and swallowed hard, bracing myself for my next step forward. The air felt thicker and heavier. Each step I took was like wading in waist-deep seawater, even though we weren’t standing in water at all.

  “Careful, Forrest. She doesn’t want us going any farther.”

  “I agree with whoever she is,” Father said through the cloth.

  I gave Father a shrewd stare before I attempted one more step and found myself standing against an invisible wall that was cold like ice. I pressed and pushed, but it was impassable.

  Jacques touched the wall and winced, pulling back his hand. “It’s painfully cold. What do you make of this, Matilda?”

  She placed both hands against the barrier and closed her eyes, concentrating. “This is Esmeralda’s magic. I sense her presence upon it.”

  “Can you break through it?” he asked.

  She ran both hands across the barrier, feeling and chanting softly. After a few seconds she shook her head. “No. She’s quite powerful in her magic, like most Gypsy witches are. I don’t detect a hanging curse spell.”

  We didn’t have any other choice except to turn back. Before I could even make the suggestion we were greeted by an unexpected group of men.

  “We had hoped you understood you weren’t welcome several nights ago,” one man said, holding his crude metal weapon that was shaped like a curved scythe blade.

  Perhaps greeted wasn’t the best word for our encounter. They exhibited nothing friendly in their approach. We turned and faced them.

  The man looked at me. “Esmeralda isn’t pleased that you’ve returned unannounced. She demands to see you. So come along with us peacefully and there’ll be no bloodshed.”

  Anger flared Jacques’ nostrils. His eyes narrowed. It’s never wise to threaten a werewolf, even in his human form. Matilda stared at the man coldly. Her jaw tightened and her lips formed a partial snarl.

  I pressed my back against the invisible wall. An idea whispered into my mind. An old Hunter’s insight? I didn’t know, but I weighted the suggestion and obeyed. I slid my silver cross from my pocket and placed it against the magical barrier behind me. Where the cross touched the cold barrier, the wall retreated slightly and allowed my hand a pocket of space.

  “Your crosses,” I whispered. “Place them against the wall.”

  Father turned and placed his against the wall.

  “What are you doing?” the man asked. He held the scythe back above his head, ready to swing at us. “Come along with us. Now.”

  Matilda and Jacques pressed their gold crosses against the wall.

  “Stop them!” Esmeralda’s desperate voice echoed through the tunnel. She was nowhere to be seen.

  The cold wall opened and congealed around us, pushing us through to the other side. I visibly shivered from the icy chill that shot through my body, as did the rest of my company.

  The men advanced but the magical barrier didn’t budge for them. The man swung the scythe but the wall’s magic prevented him from striking it. We could see one another through the wall, but we couldn’t touch.

  “Open the wall!” the man shouted, looking up. I assumed he was yelling at Esmeralda. “We cannot pass!”

  “I cannot,” came her firm reply. “Doing so opens it for worse things to enter.”

  “How did you know the crosses would let us through?” Matilda asked.

  I shrugged. “I didn’t, really. My cross was what caused Esmeralda to lower her guard the other night. I suppose this barrier is set to prevent a vampire from passing through. Since we have crosses, the magic recognizes that we’re not vampires.”

  The men stared at us with hardened gazes. They no longer appeared to be willing to peacefully escort us to Esmeralda, even if we agreed to go with them. They’d rather kill us if they could get to us.

  I wondered if the barrier was to keep Duke Raginwulf out or was it to contain what was on this side? Of course there was another possibility. The wall might protect whatever Esmeralda was hiding from outsiders or protect the outsiders from it. Based upon her control over the rest of her village and their undying loyalty to her, I got the impression that she wasn’t too concerned about the fate of anyone outside of her tightknit society.

  A tendril of magic pricked my hand that held the cross. My hand shook but source of magic didn’t attempt to force me
to drop the cross.

  “Do you feel its presence?” Matilda asked, looking at me.

  “Yes.”

  Father lowered the cloth from his face and took a deep breath. The air was cleaner here. The sludgy water stopped at the other side of the invisible wall. The center of the floor was dry as were the walls and ceiling. Apparently we had gotten past two of her deterrents.

  “Shall we proceed?” I asked.

  Jacques glanced back at the angry men. “I don’t think that it’s any safer for us to turn back.”

  Looking at Matilda, I said, “What do you sense about what lies ahead?”

  “It’s still distant. It could be masked by another magical barrier though.”

  “I wonder what it is?”

  She sighed. “We’re bound to find out if we keep going.”

  Murderer! whispered harshly in my ear.

  I glanced around. “Anyone else hear that?”

  “What?”

  “A voice?”

  Each of them shook their heads.

  Blood is on your hands.

  “How about that time?” I asked.

  “No,” Jacques said with a concerned frown. “What are you hearing?”

  “Just accusations.”

  “What kind?” Matilda asked.

  I shrugged.

  Laughter echoed softly near my ear. I handed the lantern to Jacques. I lowered my cross, placing it into my left hand. Then I took my dagger from my pocket. Warmth flowed from the blade’s handle and traveled to my elbow. The blade could thwart the power of a master vampire, allowing me to take control of him, but I didn’t expect any master vampire to be hiding somewhere within these tunnels, especially not since Duke Raginwulf was Esmeralda’s foremost enemy. But there could be other masters.

  The dagger, however, was a useful weapon even against humans, whereas a stake produced deep punctured wounds, which were effective in slowing down a mortal enemy but offered a slow painful death.

  I had never killed another human, and Jacques had warned insistently that I shouldn’t because of how it would affect my young mind. I agreed. I never wanted to kill anything that wasn’t supernatural or undead. Albert, on the other hand, had warned me that it was inevitable. Eventually I’d be forced beyond my control to carry out such an unwanted deed. We were at war against dark supernatural creatures. Sometimes they controlled humans, as I had witnessed firsthand. War always had its casualties, and the Civil War stories Dominus had told me also confirmed that.